


Go scatheless from your terrible compassion

by a_walking_shadow



Category: Confessions of Dorian Gray, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, I'm here to make their lives terrible!, M/M, but guess what!, these guys deserve someone nicer than me writing them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 04:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17418779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_walking_shadow/pseuds/a_walking_shadow
Summary: London, 1942. Dorian Gray hears rumours about an American man causing quite a scandal in society, and he feels left out.Tracking the elusive Captain Jack Harkness sends him towards the battlefields of mainland Europe. But what, exactly, is Captain Harkness and his organisation guarding? Dorian clearly isn't the only one with secrets here- what will be the consequences when they start coming out?





	Go scatheless from your terrible compassion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kuroshi44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuroshi44/gifts).



> The title is taken from the last line of a poem called "For Wilfred Owen", which was written in 1940 by Josephine Jacobsen. Yes, I'm fully aware that I'm butchering the context. 
> 
> A note on timing: "The House In Between" places Dorian in London in 1940, and I don't think he goes anywhere until "Frostbite", which is set in 1947. Jack Harkness is in 1941 in "The Empty Child", in 1941 in "Captain Jack Harkness"- which also features another person of that name- and will also definitely be working for Torchwood at least once during this time. I'm not a history expert, but I think I'm supposed to wait until at least 1944 to get a major Allied presence on the continent... that's significantly after many versions of Jack would be busily disrupting London social life, though. As such, I'm claiming historical liberty, and giving Torchwood a foothold somewhere a couple of years early. There were a handful of minor operations around this time, mainly centred on coastal locations, with varying (usually limited) success, so the idea of some kind of elite group doing something suspicious at the time isn't exactly out of the question... 
> 
> Hopefully, these discrepancies bother me more than any of you. Anyway. Enjoy :-)

 I had seen an awful lot in eighty years of life. So many sins had collected on my portrait even as I remained young, and even then, I was beginning to wonder how I could possibly find anything new with which to occupy my time. I had seen such horrors, witnessed such depravities, I doubted that anything could have shocked me anymore.

Of course, that was before the world was plunged into war, yet again, the previous one still fresh enough that I occasionally had nightmares of those hellish fields. The nights when I did usually ended at the bottom of a bottle, or with some other form of pleasurable distraction.  
They called the last one the War to End All Wars, which really shows nothing except a disturbing lack of insight into the human condition from the people claiming it. There was always going to be another war, the only question was when. And by the time the Great Depression hit, even that was hardly in doubt.

Britain was unpleasant during that time, to say the least, and it only got worse once war was declared. Rationing has never lent itself well to my lifestyle, but something kept me there, sitting in my house in Mayfair and watching the bombs fall. I made it through the worst of the blitz with only minor inconveniences, but soon found myself bored beyond belief. A stiff upper lip had its place, certainly, but London life was ever so dull, then.  
Captain Jack Harkness promised to be an engaging distraction.

He was a military man- all were, in those days- but, it seemed, not just out of necessity. He had a bearing to him, something in the set of his shoulders and the line of his jaw which made the greatcoat less ridiculous, somehow.  
He was an attractive man, both in and out of uniform, and rumour had it that he had his pick of both the men and women on the base he was stationed at. I never talked to him in person, only glimpsed him across the room at a handful of society events. Far more than a mere Captain should have been present at, even an American one. The mutterings that surrounded him were scandalous enough I found myself intrigued and so, I set about attempting to orchestrate a meeting.

This was easier said than done. Now, I like to fancy myself as quite the amateur sleuth, tracking a flamboyant American across London should not have been a challenge. And yet, somehow, he continued to elude me. Or rather, as soon as I began looking I seemed to come across about five of him at once- including one dead in a training accident. None of the others seemed to stay in place long enough for me to track them down, and at least one vanished off the face of the planet- and I suspect I do mean that literally, as bizarre as that may sound.

Eventually, however, I hit the jackpot. A contact of mine who was quite highly placed was able to inform me that “Captain Jack Harkness” was serving in a small base on the coast of Normandy, with some kind of special unit that was tied up in a frankly absurd amount of bureaucratic tape. British bureaucratic tape, to be precise, which raised more questions about the American man’s presence than it did answers. Actually, the existence of a small base in Normandy was quite the mystery of its own, if I’m being strictly honest.

Regardless, I had a location, and I had literal decades worth of experience getting into places I shouldn’t. Ensuring I was stationed alongside him was no real trouble whatsoever.

And so, for the second time in almost as many decades, my hair chopped short and my tailored suits replaced with uniform, I found myself marching off to war.

 

* * *

 

‘So, you’re the newest sacrificial lamb, eh? Blimey, they’re sending young ‘uns over now! What next, we’re gonna take over the nurseries?’

‘I’m older than I look, I assure you.’

‘I damn well hope so, kid. I damn well hope so. OI! Harkness! Your kid has turned up, and I bloody well hope you’re decent! This one’s barely out of nappies!’

‘I’m sure he’s capable of handling me.’ A pause. ‘Morally or physically decent?’

‘Physically, o’course. There’s no chance whatsoever of the other one.’

Harkness laughed at that, a surprisingly cheerful sound that seemed at odds with the surroundings. There shouldn’t have been fighting at this exact site for months, if not years, yet the land was still hideously scarred and barren. The regimented structure of the camp stood strong in the face of it- row after row of tents had been erected in neat lines, apparently oblivious to the yawning pits and gaping tears in the earth left by bombing raids. But there was an undertone of exhaustion which couldn’t be disguised, nerves leaving even the commanders scared to raise their voices and fingers tight on triggers at every movement.

Harkness, for his part, was a study in contradictions. Somehow, he’d managed to keep that famous greatcoat of his clean despite the dirt under his fingernails and the smear of mud on his cheekbone. Even as he laughed, loud and cheerful and without any of the paranoia of so many other soldiers I had seen, his eyes told a different story. They were ancient. Exhausted. Mirrored my own in a way that almost made me wonder- but no. The man would be forty, fifty at most. Simply a veteran of two wars- or he will be, assuming he survives this one- who has lost far too many friends and finds himself wondering why on Earth he keeps going. And yet, the smile he shot me almost seemed to be genuine.

‘A handsome young man like you joining my team? Why, today must be my lucky day! I’m Captain Jack Harkness, nice to meet you.’

‘Gray. Dorian Gray. Likewise.’

‘Dorian Gray, eh? Any resemblance to fictional characters being purely coincidental, of course.’

‘Naturally.’

‘Well then, how about I show you around? I’d love the chance to get to know you better.’

‘That sounds excellent. Lead the way, Captain.’

 

Admittedly, there wasn’t very much for him to show me.The place was attempting to pass itself off as an ordinary army camp, and for a few minutes I almost believed it. But, of course, there was the rather pressing question of how, exactly, we had managed to land this many troops here, or why this didn’t seem to be the first step towards a full invasion of the continent.  
A closer look raised even more questions. Regardless of the military trappings, this was no army site. Oh, sure, the tents on the far eastern side of the encampment were full of regular soldiers, but the rest of it? Too many clean, well-fed people, too many odd-looking crates, too many men and women with sharp eyes and even sharper minds.  
If the bureaucratic tape in London hadn’t confirmed it, the scientists certainly did. Whatever was going on here was well beyond the scope of the average military operation.

The camp itself was centered around a large structure which, I suppose, could charitably be called a building. It had an air of desperation around it, almost as if the first people here had been trying to defend themselves against whatever lay inside, and the army only turned up later to fix the job. Hastily erected barricades had been half torn down and the materials reused in makeshift walls. Shallow ditches had been expanded upon by the army, and the recent rain had created a moat around the place. At four places- once on each side- someone had laid down boards over it, allowing for trucks to cross safely. Guards stood at each of these points, eyeing the vehicles with distrust.

‘We’ve already captured our objective’, Harkness told me. ‘All we’re doing is waiting for the scientists to find a safe way to move it, then we get the hell out. Until then, though, we’re stuck here- and this thing’s a big enough target we’re requisitioning troops from the regular army to keep an eye out. That’s why you’re here.’

‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘Yeah, there are definitely far worse jobs in this war. Have you been serving long, Gray?’

‘Longer than you’d ever believe. Yourself?’

‘Hah. Longer than you’d ever believe.’

‘How long have they been fighting this, then?’

‘They?’

‘Whoever it is that all the scientists are working for.’

He didn’t answer that one, just began to lead the way towards the monstrosity in the centre of the camp. I found that I almost had to run to keep up with his stride.

‘What- what is it, then? This objective?’

He paused at the entrance, glanced over his shoulder at me. ‘Come and take a look.’

 

Fiction had been a fascination of mine since I was a boy, the more outlandish the better, and my immortality had not changed that. Oh, I found other, more debauched pursuits with which to occupy my time, but the appeal of a good piece of literature never faded. Oscar’s work always did make me smile, the thought that he had captured my story with such brilliance had seemed another form of immortality in and of itself.

That said, I had never had any real desire to be involved in any other works of fiction, as a protagonist or otherwise. Living incognito suited me well. For all that I knew my encounters with the occult could quite easily fill a library of their own, I was content to keep the stories to myself.

I had accepted, then, that any attempt to classify my various misadventures would likely present them as horror stories. A cautionary tale for the youth of tomorrow, perhaps, or maybe just murmurs of the supernatural, used to terrify young children sitting around a campfire. Either way, I knew my place.   
It was therefore quite a jarring feeling to follow Captain Harkness into that building, and into what felt like another genre entirely.

The building had been constructed around an enormous crater, larger but not dissimilar to those left in the wake of the doodlebugs that had been launched on London.  
Yet the object in the centre was no German rocket.  
Oh, it was still a bomb, of that I had no doubt. But no German weapon would look like that. It was almost beautiful, in a way, shining silver metal so smooth I found myself marvelling at the clear talent of its creators. It was large, too, far larger than any weapon I had seen before, easily two, three, times the size of a plane, and the shape of it!  
It seemed far too fragile to fly, and definitely far too fragile to survive a fall like that.

Unfortunately, the ethereal nature of the place seemed to only make it a few metres before reality ensued, and then it was back to muddy fields and military discipline. It was quite a pity, really. Especially the discipline part. I tried sketching the object, a few times, and quickly found my paper and pencils confiscated by one of the multitude of officious fools wandering about the place. There really was nothing to do except stand there and watch the damn thing.

For something that surely had the makings of either a science fiction novel or a spy drama, it was remarkably dull. Nothing to do but watch the occasional group of scientists scurry in, poke the thing, then scurry out again. How utterly monotonous.

Well, nothing to do when on duty, that is.

Captain Jack Harkness was everything the rumours had said about him, and more. I know for a fact that I wasn’t the only one he spent his nights with, but it never seemed important. That’s quite the claim, for me, I’m fully aware of just how possessive I can be towards my conquests. And yet, with Jack, that never seemed to matter. We matched each other, and not just physically.  
I felt like I understood him, like I alone saw past the cheerful flirtation and into something darker inside. He saw through me, too, right past this eighteen-year-old body. He stared into my hideous, hideous soul, and he smiled like he saw something he recognised in it.

We spent so many nights together, him and I. Every boredom-filled day guarding that device was made worthwhile, ten times over. Of course, keeping our relationship secret from his superiors was quite a challenge. He wasn’t exactly concerned with his own safety- once, I even caught him flirting with the Colonel, and when I started panicking, he grinned and asked if I was jealous! The nerve of the man! I’m amazed he wasn’t shot.

 

It was, as far as I could tell, a completely ordinary day when it all went wrong.

Jack was actually with us, for once. Usually, his superiors seemed to find an endless string of activities to occupy his time with- activities which, if his muttering was anything to go by, could have been performed by a trained monkey. Or even one of the others working for “Torchwood”. The tasks must have been simple, in that case- he didn’t seem to think that they should be trusted with so much as a hairpin. He certainly didn’t want them anywhere near whatever it was at the centre of our encampment.

One moment, everything was normal- perimeter guards in place, hands on their rifles, for once no scientists in site. Jack was trying, and failing, to flirt with one of the others, although I doubt his failure was going to continue for much longer. And then-

A figure. Young. Male. Military fatigues- British. Shoving his way past the guards at one of the entrances.

Several gunshots, instantly. Surprisingly enough, I realised that one of them came from my gun. The intruder collapsed, at least one bullet in his chest courtesy of myself.

One of the others went wide. It clipped the corner of the object we had been guarding all this time, and it started to glow, purple light spilling out across the room, the intensity getting brighter and brighter every second.

I had known it was a bomb the moment I first laid eyes on it, and I hardly needed Jack to tell me that we were far, far too close. This one was going to hurt, I could already tell.

Jack had screamed my name and gestured to the side- a small depression into the earth, perhaps the result of one of the more regular bombing attacks of this war.

‘Dorian! In! Now!’

‘You go, Jack! I’ll be fine!’

‘That’s an order, Gray!’

‘Come on, Jack! Just MOVE!’

We were still standing there shouting at each other when the world went white.

 

Feeling returned gradually, although still faster than I would have liked. I could feel my burned skin regrowing, and not for the first time I found myself wishing that my immortality had done something about the pain.  
It was almost good to feel something, though. To know I was still alive.  
The burns were by far the worst on my arms, hands, and face, while the parts of my body protected by clothes were practically unharmed, as far as I could tell. In fact, my injuries almost seemed to be confined to areas of exposed skin which had been facing towards the object. It was bizarre, to say the least.

My heart sinking, I dragged myself to my knees and looked over at where I had last seen Jack, just in time to watch him splutter back into consciousness.

‘Oh, thank goodness, Dorian, you made it- I can explain how I’m alive, just listen.’

‘See, Jack, I’m alive, I’m fine, I didn’t need to use the shelter and I’m so glad you got there in time.’  

‘…’

‘…’

‘Wait- both of us- Dorian, you survived that? You mean- Dorian Gray. I should've guessed.’

‘Jack, you- you weren’t unconscious, were you?’

 

I never forgot the look on his face at that moment. He looked so desperate. How long had he been alone, I wonder? How many decades, or even centuries? How many people had he lost? And then-

Shouts. Running feet, getting closer.

Complete and utter heartbreak on his face.

‘Dorian- Dorian, I’m sorry.’

‘What for, Jack? This- this is good, right? You’re like me. I’m not alone. You’re not alone. That’s good, isn’t it? Surely that’s good.’

‘Dorian, please. Whatever happens. Don’t let them find out about you. Keep away from Torchwood. Promise me.’

‘Why, what- you’re scaring me, Jack. What’s the problem? Because I promise, I’ve been at this long enough, I know- Jack. Jack, what the hell are you doing, put the gun down-’

‘I’m sorry, Dorian. I love you but I’m sorry, this is the only way to keep you safe from them.’

‘Don’t you fucking dare.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, you will be, you twisted piece of-’

_Bang._

 

‘We’re done here. Come on, let’s go home.’

‘But, ma’am, the bodies-’

‘They aren’t ours. The only Torchwood operative inside the barrier was Harkness, and he’s done his usual. The rest of them can just be listed as missing in action, not our problem to deal with.’

‘… Yes, ma’am.’

 

I watched them for a long time, crouched down in the rubble. Watched him. I waited for what felt like hours as they disassembled the camp around me and began marching out, waited for Jack to come and find me again. But he stayed firmly within sight of his superiors the entire time. Within the sight of Torchwood.

He never even looked back.


End file.
